


Greg's boots

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not Britpicked, Shoe Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 04:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12927771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: Mycroft finds Greg wearing unfamiliar footwear. He is intrigued.





	Greg's boots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).



> The idea for this came from a picture I saw on Tumblr called "The Hotel" by britgov on DeviantArt showing Greg wearing a pair of black combat style boots. This is for Mottlemoth, who has been an inspiration, and has provided her readers with endless hours of Mystrade goodness. Please forgive any geography/culture mistakes. What I know of England I've learned from TV or Google!

Greg and Mycroft were spending a lazy Saturday morning driving through the rural countryside towards Brighton. Greg's car had gone on the fritz so he had borrowed his contractor brother's pickup truck. When Mycroft saw what they were going to be riding in, he scrunched his nose and hesitated.

"What's the matter love, not a posh enough ride for you?" Greg chuckled.

"I admit, this would not be my first choice in which to ride across the countryside" said Mycroft, dismissively.

"C'mon, it's not that bad. Colin bought a top of the line model, soft cushioned seats, killer stereo, temperature control, all the amenities you like. He may do manual labor for a living, but he still knows how to enjoy the finer things in a ride".

Mycroft reluctantly settled into the passenger seat and did find the interior to be much nicer than expected. Maybe this would be a comfortable ride after all.

They drove out of London towards Brighton and the sea, enjoying the breathtaking scenery. Mycroft put his hand on Greg's thigh. As Greg manually shifted the gears with the stick shift and stepped on the clutch, the muscles in his thigh flexed. Mycroft could feel them quivering under his touch. Then he looked down to Greg's feet. They were covered by black leather combat style boots. He had never seen them before.

Mycroft's stillness drew Greg's attention. Mycroft seemed to have zoned out.  
"Everything ok love?"

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, of course." After a pause he asked, "Gregory, where on earth did you get those boots?"

"These old things?" Greg stated, looking down at his feet. "Oh, I got these in my constable days, way back when. Never wore them much. Found them in the back of the closet. Thought they'd be good to wear on our little excursion today". 

"I see", replied Mycroft, enjoying the view. He admired the supple black leather encasing his lover's feet. How he could see the outline of the boots underneath Greg's dark jeans just above the ankle. He let his thoughts drift to the possibility of slowly removing those boots sometime later and felt a stirring in his groin.

They continued on their drive, meandering through the hills on the winding roads. They stopped in a quaint market town to do some shopping and to grab a bite to eat. Greg sat on a bench outside the village pub and removed one of his boots. Out fell a small stone. He put his boot back on and began tying up the laces. Mycroft was mesmerized by the sight. Greg's nimble fingers brushing against the smooth leather, pulling the laces tight through the eyelets, one after the other. Mycroft could feel himself blushing, a warmth covering his cheeks.

When Greg was done, he stood to go, but one of his pant legs had gotten caught on the top of the boot, giving him a roguish, rough look. How Mycroft just wanted to reach over and touch that leg and draw that cloth down over the boot. What was wrong with him? It was just a pair of boots! Many people wore boots, but he had never paid much notice. Until now. If he had his way, Greg would never take them off.

They got back in the truck, Mycroft soon becoming hypnotized by the rhythmic shifting of gears and steady push of the boots on the clutch and accelerator. He must have dozed off, for when he awoke, they were parked outside of the hotel where they would be spending the night.

"You with me, love? You've been awfully quiet" queried Greg.

"Yes", murmured Mycroft. "Just relaxing and enjoying this time together."

Greg took Mycroft's hand and they walked together into the hotel. They got themselves checked in, ordered room service, and started to unwind from their day of travel. Greg sat down on the edge of the bed and began pulling up the leg of his jeans to get to his boot laces. Mycroft knelt down and stilled Greg's hands.

"Please, let me."

Mycroft put his hands on the jeans of Greg's left leg, pushing them up to gather around his shin. He smoothed his hands back down Greg's leg, his fingers ghosting over the tiny hairs there. He got to the top edge of the boots and began to slowly untie the knot. While one hand undid the laces, the other caressed up and down the back of Greg's leg. Greg shifted on the bed and did a sharp little inhale.

Once the laces were loose, Mycroft pulled the boot off. He repeated the process with the right boot, savoring the little moans of pleasure coming from his beloved. Greg was leaning back, with his arms spread behind him, grasping onto the sides of the bed. 

After he removed the second boot, Mycroft crawled up to straddle Greg at the waist. He cupped his face and peppered light kisses along his jaw and lips. Their kisses became more insistent, hands moving under clothing, caressing any available skin. Mycroft suddenly pulled away, looking at Greg through hooded eyes. 

"Darling?" There's something I'd like you to do for me when we get back to London" purred Mycroft.

"Yes, gorgeous, anything", panted Greg. 

"Order yourself some more boots", smiled Mycroft.

"With pleasure", Greg replied, as he flipped Mycroft on his back to get the evenings fun started.


End file.
